


"you're simon and baz"

by nevergonnacallmedarling (superbestfriendsandsoulmates)



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: (only in chapter 6 tho), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Baz and Shep are bros, Breaking Up & Making Up, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Getting Back Together, Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, Jealousy, M/M, Misunderstandings, Normal AU, They Really Are Idiots, mentions of ebb/fiona
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:41:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28983531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superbestfriendsandsoulmates/pseuds/nevergonnacallmedarling
Summary: "It really should be easy to assemble. I've definitely assembled harder things than this before; I don't know why I'm struggling so much with it. Well, that's a lie; I know why I've been struggling with everything lately, actually. I haven't been in a very good mental health state all summer. The constant feeling of being left behind by my boyfriend, who's starting uni an hour and a half away from me, and the nagging fear of him breaking up with me once he meets someone more interesting probably has something to do with it. (It has everything to do with it.)"Simon is convinced Baz is going to break up with him once he moves to Oxford; and one night, after an argument, he actually does. (Or so he thinks. If you ask Baz, he'll tell you it was Simon who broke up with him.) "But you can't just break up, you're Simon and Baz," is what everyone keeps telling Simon, but he doesn't know what that means. Until he does.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 25
Kudos: 109





	1. do you love me?

**Author's Note:**

> this is slightly inspired by the novella _nick and charlie_ by alice oseman. (just the whole “we both think it was the other who broke things off” thing, really. And the party scene, too.)  
> hope you like it! <3

**Simon**

“Snow, you fucking numpty,” Baz says, agressivly taking the instructions out of my hand. “This piece doesn’t go there, can’t you see it?”

“Don’t call me Snow,” I say, still trying to place this damned piece, too proud to give up now.

Baz rarely calls me Snow anymore. He only does it when he's really pissed off at me _or_ when he's flirting with me. (I think it's pretty obvious which case is right now - I’ve been giving him a lot of reasons to be angry at me lately.)

“Are you listening to me?” he asks. “I said this doesn’t go there, stop trying to force it! You’re gonna break it.”

We’ve been trying to assable this fucking bookcase for at least an hour. Baz is moving here in less than two weeks, and he wants it all ready by the time he starts uni. We’ve been making trips from Watford to Oxford with Ebb’s van, moving all of his stuff here, and every single one of them has left me resenting this place even more.

“Do it yourself if you’re so smart,” I say, contradicting myself when I grab the instructions back.

“You literally work at a furniture store, Snow,” he points out. “ _You_ were the one who told me to buy this one. You said it was _easy to assemble._ ”

It really should be easy to assemble. I've definitely assembled harder things than this before; I don't know why I'm struggling so much with it. Well, that's a lie; I know why I've been struggling with _everything_ lately, actually. I haven't been in a very good mental health state all summer. The constant feeling of being left behind by my boyfriend, who's starting uni an hour and a half away from me, and the nagging fear of him breaking up with me once he meets someone more interesting probably has something to do with it.

( _It has everything to do with it._ )

"I need a break," I announce, throwing the instructions on the floor, and collapsing on the (thankfully already assembled) bed.

**Baz**

Simon's been on a mood all fucking summer, and I'm still waiting for him to tell me _why._

I mean, I have my suspicions. We're all gonna be out of Watford by next month; everyone in our friends group, except for him. I get why he would be upset by it.

The fact that I won't see him everyday upsets me too, of course. But Oxford it's not that far away from Watford; and he doesn't work on weekends, so we could take turns to visit each other. It's gonna be fine, _we're gonna be fine_ , I'm completely sure of it. 

I probably should be nicer to him. I know he struggles with his mental health, he has for all his life; but he hasn’t been at an all time low since he started taking antidepressants last year, so I don’t know if it’s that or if there’s something else. (He hasn’t seen his therapist in quite some time, though; maybe he should again. But good luck introducing that thought to Simon without upsetting him.) I _know_ I shouldn’t fight back when he gets like this; but he gets _so angry_ ; he knows exactly what to say to get under my skin.

Old habits die hard, I suppose.

He’s laying on his side, facing away from me. I lay beside him, spooning him from behind.

“I’m sorry, love,” I say, leaving a quick peck on the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean to shout at you.”

“I’m sorry too,” he says, and I can actually feel the muscles on his back untensing. “You were right about that fucking piece, I should’ve listened to you.”

“Of course I was right,” I say, kissing behind his ear now. “I’m always right.”

“You’re a twat, that’s what you are,” he says, without any malice; and rolls over until he’s facing me, my arms still around him. “Do you love me?”

He’s been asking that quite frequently lately, so I’m not surprised anymore. My answer it’s always the same: “Of course I love you, you fucking nightmare.” 

( _I love him more than anyone, or anything_.)

“I love you too,” he says, and then he kisses me, our faces already so close he almost didn’t have to move. It’s slow, and sweet; he has one hand caressing my cheek, and he intertwines our legs together, getting impossibly closer to me.

I couldn't quite believe it, the first time he kissed me - I’ve wanted it for so long. It was the last football match of the season, and when I scored last minute, breaking the 1-1 tie, he tackled me to the ground and full on snogged me in front of everyone. It was very dramatic. ( _It was perfect_.) We've been together since then.

(It’s been three years, and I still feel like the luckiest man alive every time he kisses me.)

**Simon**

Kissing Baz is always so good; _he’s so good._ He puts up with my moods and tells me he loves me and kisses me back when I kiss him.

God, I love him so much. I love him _so much_ and I hate that all my brain can think about right now is _how long do I have until I lose this? Until I lose him?_

( _I don’t know if I’ll survive it if I lose him_.)

It’s so selfish of me, but I wish he didn’t have to move away. _I hate that he has to move away_.

“God, I can’t wait to move here.”

**Baz**

I shouldn't have said that.

He tenses again immediately, and I wish I could turn back a few seconds ago and shut my mouth up. 

I was just thinking about how nice it was to lazily snog him in a place that’s only _mine_. We don’t have to worry here about Fiona bursting the door open without any care in the world, or about Ebb arriving home earlier that we were expecting.

My mind went straight to all the sex we could have here without interruptions or having to be quiet; that’s why I said I couldn’t wait to move here.

He untangles himself from me, sitting up before I can explain. “We should finish that.”

“ _Simon_ …” I start, but he quickly gets out of bed and goes to the bookcase again, picking up the instructions from the floor.

I wish he would just talk to me.


	2. if they can make it, so can we

**Simon**

I’m putting my shoes on when I hear Ebb coming through the front door, coming back from her walk with Nico.

“Oh, hi,” she says, while Nico gets in between my legs, claiming attention, almost tripping me over. (And getting white and grey fur all over my clothes.)

Fucking dog. (I scratch him behind his ears and give him a peck on the head.)

“Hi, and bye; I’m leaving,” I announce. “I’m going to Agatha’s.”

“Are you coming back for dinner?” she asks, getting Nico out of his leash. (He immediately runs to the kitchen to drink water from his bowl.)

“Nope.”

“Okay kiddo, have fun!” she says, and I give her a kiss on the cheek before stepping outside.

I grew up in care homes, but I’ve been living with Ebb since I was eleven, and I owe her everything, to be honest. 

I remember vividly the day I met her; we just clicked instantly. I was just a scared little kid and, for the first time in my life, I felt comfortable, I felt _at peace_ , at the company of an adult. She told me all about the farm close to town she worked at, and showed me pictures of all her sheeps (they were _so cute_ ), and promised me to bring me there sometime so I could meet them. Ten minutes was all it took for me to fall in love with her.

She just gets me, I guess. Her twin brother, Nicodemus, died at a very young age, so she knows what is like to lose someone. (I know it’s not the same - I never actually met my parents. But still; she understands the constant sadness that comes with it.)

She’s just the best foster mother, the best _family_ , I could ever get. 

(Sometimes family means a lesbian farmer and a shepherd dog named after her dead brother, I guess.)

(***)

“Which dress,” asks Aggie, one on each hand. “The black one or the pink one?”

Penny and I are on the bed, looking at our phones, while Agatha tries to decide what to wear at dinner tonight. (We’re meeting with the whole gang - Baz, Penny, Agatha, Micah, Dev, Niall and me. Micah leaves in two days, missing Dev’s party next week, so it’s our last chance to be all together before everyone is gone.)

“No offence, but I couldn’t care less about your outfit,” says Penny, as blunt as ever.

“I’m just gonna try them both,” says Aggie, undressing without any care I’m right here.

“ _Wao_ ,” I exclaim, putting my hands in front of my eyes. “Could you just not flash me unannounced, if you don’t mind? You’re my ex, it’s weird.”

I don’t actually care about seeing her in her undies, it’s not like I haven’t seen her in a bikini before. I just like to be dramatic about things that don’t matter sometimes. 

“Shut up,” she says, putting the black dress on. “Our former relationship doesn’t really count as a _real relationship_.”

“And why’s that?”

“Well, one, because we were thirteen. Two, we only dated for like, a month. Three, you’re gay. And four, I'm also gay.”

Well, she has a point, I guess.

“She’s right, Si,” Penny agrees. “It doesn’t count.”

“You and Micah started dating when you were thirteen,” I point out.

“Yeah, but we’re still together five years later,” she says. “And neither of us is gay. So it counts.”

I don’t even know if I’m 100% gay, to be honest. But the only person I’ve ever been attracted to and in love with is Baz, who’s, well, a boy. So I go with gay. I mean, _I am gay_ , for all that matters.

“Okay, fine, whatever,” I say, giving up this stupid argument. “Get naked in front of me all you want.”

“You’ve been in such a strange mood lately, I swear to God,” says Aggie, while she looks at herself at the mirror from all angles.

I don’t say anything back; I know I’ve been in a shit mood. All everyone’s been talking about lately is moving out and going to uni, and I’m so tired of it. I’m tired of being irritated by it. I feel like such a bad friend. They’re all moving on with their lives, I should be happy for them. I feel so bad at myself for _not being able_ to feel happy for them.

Aggie’s going to California, Micah to New York, and Penny, Niall and Dev to London. And Baz to Oxford, of course. I’m staying in Watford, taking a year off to focus on working and making some money. Ebb insisted on paying for it, but it’s not like she has a lot of money, and I don’t want to put that weight on her. And besides, I don’t really know what I want to study; so this way I have all year to figure it out.

But that means everyone’s leaving Watford but me. And I can’t help but feel left behind. I know it’s irrational; they’re not going to forget all about me just because we don’t live in the same town anymore. But my mind betrays me every time, making me think they’re abandoning me, that they’ll be better off without me. (Especially Baz. On good days I can get behind everyone else leaving, even Penny; but not Baz. Never Baz.)

(***)

Penny left a while ago, saying Micah wanted to see her before dinner, so they'll meet us directly at the restaurant. 

It's only me and Agatha now; she's still trying to figure out what to wear, and I'm still on her bed being of no help at all.

"Why the hell are you overthinking this?" I ask, annoyed.

"I'm not overthinking anything; it's just that all my good clothes are already packed," she explains. "And I don't know how to look good in any of these."

I roll my eyes. She looks good in literally anything, what is she talking about?

"Well, you're having dinner with three couples," I say. "You'll be the only single one, so who cares. It's not like you have anyone to impress or something."

She blinks her eyes at me a couple of times. " _Wao_. Thanks for that, I guess."

Shit. I should've stuck with _you look good in anything_. (Her breakup with Minty is not that recent anymore, but I know she's still kinda sad about it.)

" _Fuck_ , Aggie, I'm sorry," I quickly say. "I didn't mean that."

"I know you didn't," she says, tucking her blond hair in a ponytail. "Will you now please tell me what the hell is wrong with you?"

 _What is wrong with me?_ What _isn't_ wrong with me, we'll be done much earlier.

"I don't know," I end up saying. (Not because I don't know what's wrong with me - but because I don't know _where to start_.)

She sits next to me, occupying the spot Penny left empty.

"I know something's bothering you," she says. "You can talk to me, you know."

"It's just that," I start, trying to choose my words carefully. "You're all leaving, and I'm staying here. And, I don't know. I guess I just feel sad about it."

"Oh, Simon," she says, taking my left hand between both of hers. "We're not gonna stop being friends just because we're apart from each other. We'll _skype_ all the time, I promise."

I wanna believe her. God, _I wanna believe her so bad_.

I end up blurting out what I'm _really_ worried about. "I can't help but think Baz's gonna break up with me."

She looks at me like I've lost my mind. "Well, that escalated quickly. What the fuck are you talking about?"

"I'm scared he's gonna realise how boring and dull I am compared to him." I confess. "I'm terrified of all the new people he's gonna meet, and realise how boring and dull I am compared to _them_ -"

"Simon," she interrupts me. "Stop. That's the stupidest thing you've ever said. Basil's crazy for you. There's no way he's gonna end things with you, like, _ever._ "

"But what if he does?" I sound so pathetic, so small. I hate it.

" _He won't,_ " she insists. " _You're Simon and Baz._ He's not gonna break up with you just because you'll live an hour and a half apart from each other now."

 _You're Simon and Baz_? What's that supposed to mean?

She continues before I can ask. "Have you talked to him about this?"

"Not really," I answer. "He's just so excited about it. He'd feel terrible if he knew how much it's affecting me."

"You need to tell him, Si," she says. "Have you told anyone at all?"

"Nope, just you."

"Not even Penny?" I get why she's surprised by this. I usually tell Penny everything; we have a no secrets pact.

"Not even Penny," I reply. "She and Micah are gonna be long distance too. A much more longer distance, actually. And she doesn't seem particularly worried about it; I don't want to put my paranoias into her head."

"Of course she's not worried about it," she says, standing up again. (That was a lot of physical affection coming from Agatha; she must need a break from it.) "She knows it's stupid to worry about it. She and Micah are sure of each other; just as you and Baz are. And as you said, they're gonna be even more far away from each other than you two. If they can make it, you and Baz can too."

She's in front of the mirror again, now doing her makeup. She's gonna go with the pink dress at the end, I guess.

"Thanks, Aggie," I say. I'm suddenly overwhelmed by how much I love her. So I tell her. "I love you."

"Love you too," she says, putting on mascara.

_If they can make it, so can we._

I repeat it in my head over and over again.

**Baz**

I’m in the middle of doing my hair when my aunt suddenly opens the bathroom door, giving me something close of a heart attack. I didn’t even know she was home already.

“Jesus, Fiona,” I say, almost dropping the hairbrush I have in hand. “You scared me to death.”

“What are you, five?” she asks, sitting on the toilet to pee, without caring that I’m right here. (She’s done this so many times I’m starting to not care too.)

“Whatever,” I simply say.

I should’ve gone to my parents house to get ready. But their house is, like, fifteen minutes away from town, and I couldn't be bothered to make the trip back and forth. That’s why I spend most of my time here, really. It has its pros and cons (pros being it’s right on the city center. Cons being, well, _Fiona_ ) but the convenience of it usually wins.

“Where’s your golden boy, anyways?” she asks, flushing the toilet; sitting on it again, now with the lid pushed down.

I roll my eyes. I think she saw me through the mirror reflection. _Good_. “I don’t know; he’s at Agatha’s, I think. Why?”

“Nothing,” she says. “You’re usually conjoined at the hip, so it’s weird to see you without him.”

It’s true. I don’t want to give her the satisfaction of admitting it, so I simply give her one of my murderous glances. But she’s right; we’re always together. Fiona always says we have a codependency problem. I always tell her she’s no one to judge other people’s relationship issues.

(Not that it’s an issue, really. We’re not actually codependent; we’re just used to spending a lot of time together.)

“You’ll have to learn how not to have his dick inside your ass all the time once you move to Oxford,” she says; I thought we were done with the conversation.

My face is burning due to her comment. (She’s always saying shit like this; I don’t know why I let it affect me still.) “Fiona! You can’t just say that.”

“This is a free country,” she says, lamely. “I can say whatever I want.”

“Sometimes I think I’m the adult of this relationship,” I say under my breath.

She must hear me because she immediately says: “You’re literally an adult, you’re already eighteen.”

“That was not my point,” I say; God, she really exasperates me. “You’re literally in your forties; act like it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says, getting up and leaving the room.

That’s all it takes to scare Fiona away: reminding her how old she is; it works every time. (In her head she stopped aging when she became, I don’t know, twenty five at most.)

When I’m finally happy with my hair, and I’ve brushed my teeth, I’m ready to go. I decide to text Simon before leaving.

 **Me:** _Hi love_

 **Me:** _Are you still at Agatha's?_

**Simon💖:** _hi_ 💕

 **Simon** 💖: _yeah, we're about to leave_

**Me:** _Okay, see you there then_

**Simon💖:** 😘😘

**Me:** ❤️

“Fiona, I’m leaving!” I say, already half out the door.

“I don’t fucking care!” she shouts back. 

She’s such a fucking child, I swear to God.

**Simon**

After dinner we stay outside of the restaurant for a little bit, hugging and saying goodbye to Micah, wishing him a nice trip.

Dinner went exactly as I expected: All they talked about was university and moving to a new city, and I couldn't feel more out of place.

(Also, Penny and Micah were kinda awkward the whole time, for whatever reason.)

When we've all said goodbye and everyone is starting to walk home, Baz takes my right hand into his and whispers to my ear: "Wanna stay to mine tonight?"

I say yes before he's even finished asking the question.

By _stay to mine_ I assume he means _stay to Fiona's._ I used to be terrified of her; but not so much anymore. Seeing her almost naked at 3am in my kitchen regularly has forced me to get used to her, I guess. (Our insomniac phases tend to coordinate with each other, don't ask me why.) (Like when girls have their periods at the same time as their closest friends.) (Not that I know much about periods, to be honest.) 

She and Ebb have a weird thing going on - That's why she's in my kitchen on unusual hours of the night. And by _weird thing_ I mean they're having sex together. Which is weird. It's weird because Fiona used to date Ebb's brother when they were teenagers, and they're both clearly still sad about him dying. And their way of coping with it is, I repeat, _having sex together._

Fucking weird.

We're walking now, our hands still wrapped together. I was a little scared to hold hands with him in public at the beginning, when I was a fifteen year old very new at being, well, _gay_. Now I love it. I love that everyone can see that he is _mine_ (by some miracle.) And that I'm _his._

He looks amazing tonight. He's wearing some fancy trousers and a buttoned shirt with flowers on it; with, I swear, more buttons undone than done. (It drives me crazy when he does that.) He put more effort than I did, as usual. (Maybe Aggie was onto something after all, trying a million dresses.) I'm wearing the same jeans I wear everyday and the first clean t-shirt I saw. (I'm only well dressed when I let Baz choose my outfit.)

He's so out of my league, it's actually painful. Like in that episode of _How I Met Your Mother,_ when they say every relationship has a _reacher_ and a _settler._ Well, in our case it's obvious who is who, I don't even need to state it.

I still can't believe I managed to trick him into dating me. We used to argue all the time, when we were younger. It took me an embarrassing amount of time to realise it wasn't hate that made me all frustrated and flustered every time I was around him; quite the contrary, actually. Not in a million years I could have imagined he felt the same about me.

( _I still can't believe he feels the same about me._ )

**Baz**

"Are you alright?" I ask him. He seems deep in his thoughts. (I'm afraid what one might find there.)

He squeezes my hand a little. "Yeah."

He doesn't sound (or look) convinced, but I don't push him. I _know_ he's not alright; but I've learned insisting makes it even worse.

(I wish I didn't have to insist for him to tell me stuff.)

(***)

“We’re going to Dev’s party next Friday, aren’t we?”

We’re on my bed, already under the covers. (He’s on his back, I’m facing him.) I know he’s not asleep only because I can see he’s on his phone; he hasn’t said anything to me in like twenty minutes.

He frowns, still looking at the screen. “Yeah, why wouldn’t we?”

“Well,” I’m trying very hard not to word this in any way that could upset him. “I thought maybe you wouldn’t want to go, I don’t know.”

“I _do_ want to go,” he assures me. “And, besides, even if I didn’t want to, why does that mean _you_ can’t go?”

That is a very good question. Maybe Fiona’s right, after all, and I’m a little bit codependent. “I wouldn’t want to go without you.” 

I can see on his face that was the right thing to say. (Maybe he’s a little bit codependent too...)

He leaves his phone on the nightstand and rolls over until he’s facing me. “Well, I do want to go, so… you’re in luck, I guess.”

**Simon**

I shouldn’t be this happy at Baz not wanting to go somewhere without me, but I am. God, I really am. It gives me _hope._

That is until he starts talking about all the little things he still needs to buy for his new flat and it’s been putting off. He asks me if I can go with him on Friday before the party. (I can’t. I have work.) (That means he’ll have to go with Fiona, and starts complaining about that.)

He starts going through the list of all the things he needs aloud. I kiss him long before he’s over.

**Baz**

Simon’s mouth is on mine before I have time to finish saying _coffee maker._

He does that, sometimes. Kissing me mid sentence, I mean. (Not that I care. I’ll kiss him whenever he wants to kiss me.)

“If I’m boring you, you just have to say it,” I say against his mouth.

“Shut up,” he says, biting my lower lip. “ _I want you._ ”

We've been having an absurd amount of sex lately. We haven't fucked that much since we started doing it; we were restless the first couple of months, we didn't do literally anything else (it was beyond ridiculous.) But now, three years into the relationship, we're way past the phase where we need to shag every single time we're alone in the same room. 

But it seems we've stepped back into that phase again recently. Not that I'm complaining, obviously.

It's just that this sudden sex drive doesn't really match Simon's state of mind. He goes to being distant and quiet (or angry and loud) one second, and the next he's pinning me to the nearest flat surface, mouth and hands all over me. And, again, _I'm not complaining_ , but I wish I could understand better what’s going on inside his brain.

He shoves his hand inside my pants, and suddenly I forget about everything else.


	3. just fucking say it

**Baz**

On Friday I pick Simon up from work, and he looks miserable.

He’s barely said a word to me since he's stepped into the car. Hasn't even looked at me once.

I tried to ask if he was okay, but he snapped at me, saying " _you don't need to check on me all the fucking time, for fuck's sake._ "

He apologized ten seconds later; he said he's had a bad day at work. But, I don't know. He seems mad _at me_ , specifically.

(I have no idea what I could've done for him to be mad at me.)

**Simon**

Baz has done nothing for me to be mad at him. Nothing except for talking about _fucking_ university and _fucking_ Oxford and his _fucking_ new flat all the _fucking_ time. But that’s not a valid reason to be mad; it shouldn’t bother me. But it does. Fuck, it really does, and now I’m not only mad at Baz, but also at _myself_.

He asked me if I was okay before, and instead of telling him the truth (or lie and say I’m fine) like any normal person would, I was a dick to him. Then I told him I’ve had a bad day at work, which it’s not entirely a lie. I’ve had a bad day, but just because it was a slow day, which means I had time to google _long distance relationships_ and read all about people saying that _it’s the worst thing ever_ and _everyone ends up breaking up_. So, yeah, exactly what I wanted to read.

I know Aggie was right and I should talk to him. But what am I supposed to say? That I’m angry at him for being excited about going to university? That’s insane. That I’m upset because I feel like he’s leaving me behind? He’ll feel so bad if I tell him that. I don’t want him to feel bad, he hasn’t really done anything wrong.

Fucking hell, why do I have to be like this? I’m literally the worst boyfriend ever.

**Baz**

Simon showers and gets ready, and then we go pick up Bunce before going to Dev’s. Simon talks to her like nothing’s wrong, like he would any other day. So I was right; he’s mad at me, specifically.

We park and get out of the car; Simon’s walking a few steps ahead of us, so he doesn’t hear Bunce ask me: “Is he mad at you?”

I shrug. “I don’t know.”

“He seems mad at you,” she insists. “What have you done?”

“Nothing,” I quickly answer, probably too loud. (Simon didn’t seem to hear, though.) “He’s been doing this lately; one day we’re fine and the next he gets all distant, and sometimes even angry, without any reason.”

“Have you asked him about it?”

I roll my eyes. “Of course I have. He didn’t tell me anything, obviously. I was actually hoping he’s said something to you.”

“No, he hasn’t,” her look is full of pity. I hate that look. “Sorry.”

We catch up with Simon right before reaching Dev’s house, so our conversation dies. 

Once we’re inside, she goes searching for Wellbelove (she’s supposedly already here) and Simon goes straight to the kitchen. 

I follow him, obviously. (I’d follow him ‘till the end of the world.)

There are a lot of people here already, (thank God Dev’s parents are out of town until next week; they’ll kill him if they knew) so it takes us a while to get there. (He let me grab his hand so we wouldn’t lose each other. I count that as a win.)

Simon doesn’t lose any time pouring himself a shot of vodka, and drowning it straight away. He does it a second time ten seconds later. And then, almost immediately, he has the glass half full of vodka, but this time he mixes it with the first non-alcoholic drink he finds. (I think it’s pineapple juice.) He drinks almost half of it in one go.

“You should take it easy, don’t you think?” I say. I’ve never seen him drink like this in my life.

“Wanna get drunk,” he says, having found a straw now. He takes a long sip. (All he’s gonna accomplish is make himself sick if he keeps drinking like that.) “Do you want a drink? Let’s get drunk together.”

“I can’t,” I say, before he starts making me one. “I drove here, remember? I can’t drink if you want me to drive us back.”

“Oh,” he says, sounding disappointed. “Well, I’m gonna get drunk anyways. Do you mind?”

“Of course not,” I reply. “Just, don’t drink this fast; it’s gonna make you sick.”

He ignores me and finishes his drink, making another straight away. He takes a sip, adds more vodka to it, and places it on the counter.

He gets all over me before I have time to understand what’s happening; one second he’s a few steps away from me and the next he has me pinned against the counter, our faces so close our noses are touching.

“What are you-”

He interrupts me with a kiss; an open-mouthed, full-on-snog kind of kiss. We’re literally making out in Dev's kitchen, in front of everybody. What the fuck has gotten into him?

He breaks the kiss, whispering in my ear: “Later I want to drunkely fuck on the bathroom.”

 _Jesus Christ_.

He steps away from me, takes his drink, and gets out of the kitchen without saying anything else, or waiting for me.

I have no idea what the hell just happened.

**Simon**

I’m drunker than I’ve ever been before. 

I’ve spent all night bouncing from room to room, always a drink in hand, leaving every time someone started talking about something related to university (which has been pretty often, to be honest.) I’ve also been hiding from Baz. I don’t trust myself being this drunk; I know if he asked me I’d just end up confessing everything.

I ended up in the conservatory (the fact that this house is big enough to have a conservatory… can’t relate) with Aggie. We’re squished on a loveseat obviously not big enough to fit us both; for no reason, really. We could sit literally anywhere else; it’s not like there’s anyone else here. 

She’s saying something, but I’m not paying any attention. It’s not like I don’t want to; but I’m so drunk I’m literally unable to concentrate enough to follow a conversation. I don’t think she’s noticed though; she’s also a little bit drunk.

“Simon? Are you listening to me?” _Shit._ I guess I was wrong.

“ _Emm, no_ , not really,” I say, honestly. “Sorry.”

She rolls her eyes. “I asked if you’ve talked to Penny."

“ _Emm_ , yes?” Of course I’ve talked to Penny. I talk to her every day, what kind of question is that?

“ _Oh, Simon._ That’s why you’ve been drinking like a mad man, right?” 

I’ve absolutely no idea what the hell she’s talking about. “ _Wut?_ ”

“I’m sorry about what I said, really,” she continues, sounding quite distressed. “That was really stupid of me.”

“What are you talking about? What did you say you’re sorry for?” I straight up ask. I’m too drunk to pretend I know what’s going on.

“The other day at my house,” she explains. “I said that if Penny and Micah could make it, you and Baz too. But that was bullshit. Just because Penny and Micah decided to break up after all doesn’t mean you and Baz will too.”

_Penny and Micah what?!_

I didn’t know where this was going, but I certainly wasn’t expecting that.

“Penny and Micah have broken up?!” I practically scream. “When the fuck did that happen?!”

“They broke up before Micah’s goodbye dinner, apparently.“ she answers. “I- I thought you knew! You said you’ve talked to Penny!”

“I _have_ talked to Penny,” I say. “She just left out that detail, it seems.”

“Simon, I’m sorry. I really thought you knew,” she says again.

I can’t believe Penny didn’t tell me. Why didn’t she tell me? And what does that mean for Baz and I? All those blog entries and _Tumblr_ posts I read were right, weren’t they? Everyone in a long distance relationship ends up breaking up. Hell, Micah and Penny didn’t even try. They just broke up two days before he left. 

Why didn’t they even try? They’ve been together for so long. They didn’t love each other enough to try? _Does Baz love me enough to try?_

“ _Oh, Si,_ ” Aggie says, patting my shoulder. “Don’t cry.”

I don’t realise I’m indeed crying until she says so. And once I’m aware of it I start crying even harder; uncontrollably and shamelessly, tears streaming down my face and blurring my vision. 

I’m babbling nonsense; repeating over and over again that I don’t want Baz to break up with me. Aggie tries to console me, but I can’t stop sobbing to save my life. 

She keeps saying he’s not gonna break up with me, but I don’t believe her. The odds aren’t clearly in my favour. 

He’s gonna break my heart, isn’t he? He’s gonna break my heart and I’m not sure I’ll be able to pick up the pieces on my own.

**Baz**

“What the hell is wrong with your boyfriend?” asks Dev, referring to Snow bursting out of the room every time he’s seen me.

He’s been doing this all night; avoiding me everywhere I go. The living room, the kitchen, the backyard; name it. If I’m in he’s out. 

“I don’t fucking know,” I say. “He’s starting to piss me off.”

“Just starting?” he takes a sip of his drink. I think I’m literally the only one at this party who’s not drinking. “I’d be already furious if Niall was ignoring me like that.”

Dev’s right, I should be furious. He’s testing my patience and I’m starting to run low.

(He can’t just kiss me senseless in front of everyone and then avoid me for the rest of the night. He’s making me crazy.)

I look at my phone, to see if he’s at least texted me something (because I’m pathetic.) I have an unread text, but it’s not from Snow.

It’s from Wellbelove.

**Agatha Wellbelove:** _baz come to the conservatory asap it’s an emergency_

What does she mean _an emergency_? And why is she texting me of all people?

**Me:** _What kind of emergency?_

**Agatha Wellbelove:** _simon’s drunk and crying and honesty having a breakdown pls come now!!!_

“Where the hell are you going?” asks Dev, as I practically run out of the room.

I don’t answer him.

(***)

What I find in the conservatory is Wellbelove practically sitting on Snow’s lap; his head’s on her shoulder while she pets his hair. He’s crying, his whole body is shaking; and he’s saying something but I can’t quite understand him. I’ve never seen him cry like this. She was right: he’s clearly having a breakdown.

“Simon, love, what’s wrong?” I ask, kneeling in front of him, my hand on his knees.

“ _Baz…_ ” he just says, not answering my question. He starts crying even harder.

I don’t understand what the fuck is happening.

“I’m gonna leave,” announces Wellbelove, getting up. “Talk to him, Simon.”

Is this my fault? _What have I done_?

“Will you please tell me why are you so upset?” I ask once she’s gone.

“You can break up with me if you want.”

I’m so taken aback by this that I think I forget how to breath for a few seconds. Of all the reasons he could be having a breakdown for, our relationship was the last thing I expected. 

Has he been thinking about us breaking up all this time? 

(I almost feel like I’m gonna be sick.)

“What?” I stand up. “Where is this coming from?”

“Penny and Micah broke up,” he says, as it explained everything.

Did they really? I didn’t know that. “So? Does that mean we have to break up too?”

“No, that’s not-”

“Then what is it?!” I say, raising my voice. _Now_ I’m really pissed off.

“All you do is talk about university!” he stands up too. “All you do is talk about Oxford and moving out and your new place and how excited you are! And it makes me feel like shit; it makes me feel like you’re happy to be leaving me behind.”

I can’t believe he’s saying this. I can’t fucking believe him right now. “You’re being unfair. What do you want me to do; not go to university?”

“Of course not, but-”

“But what?!” I interrupt him again. “Do you want me to be miserable about it, is that?”

“Baz, stop-”

“No, _you_ stop, Snow.”

“Don’t call me Snow.”

He looks so hurt by that. I would feel bad if he wasn’t practically dumping me right now. “Look, if you want to break up with me just say it.”

“ _Baz…_ ” he sits down again, defeated.

“Just fucking say it,” my voice breaks a little, and I realise I’m also crying. “Look me in the eye and end things with me if that’s what you want.”

“I just,” he has his hands pressing his eyes, so I can’t see his face. “I just think you’re gonna be happier without me. I think you’re gonna meet someone new and forget all about me in no time. And I don’t wanna hold you back.”

This can’t be happening. I can’t make sense of anything he’s saying; I feel like my whole world is shattering. I feel like I’m drowning.

I can’t be here anymore; I need to leave.

“You’re a fucking coward,” I say, and I hear him scream my name, but I’m already on my way outside.

(***)

I spend at least twenty minutes crying in the car; partly because I can’t drive while this upset, and partly because I was actually hoping Simon would come looking for me, and say he didn’t mean any of that. He’d apologise and say he loves me and we'd forget this ever happened.

But he doesn’t come. And eventually I stop crying. 

So I just leave. Alone.


	4. it means nothing

**Simon**

I wake up confused, sad, and with the worst headache I've ever experienced.

Everything aches, actually. My head, my eyes, my stomach. _My heart._

I don't really remember most of last night; I don't even know how I got to my bed. I do remember arguing with Baz, though. I don't recall exactly what we said to each other, but I think he broke up with me.

God, my eyes start to fill with tears just thinking about it. Even though I knew it was coming; even though I don't even know if he _really_ did break up with me. It hurts more than I could ever have imagined.

And I'm too hungover to _also_ be heartbroken. One thing at a time.

I look at my phone; it's past noon and I have several unread texts. Neither of them are from Baz.

Should I text him first? But what am I supposed to say? _Hey, so I was wondering, did you break up with me last night, or it was just an argument?_

What if he confirms he's indeed ended things with me? What would I do then?

I can't deal with this right now. _One thing at a time, Simon._

(***)

After a very needed shower, I decide I have to eat something; even if my stomach still feels kinda weird. 

(Fucking vodka. I'm not drinking ever again.) (But not even a hangover could make me skip breakfast.)

Ebb's supposed to be at work; that's why, for a second, I feel terrified when I see someone in the kitchen; until I realise it's just Penny.

Did she sleep here? God, I really don't remember anything.

"Oh, good morning," she says, once she sees me.

"Good afternoon, more like," I say, sitting on the kitchen table.

She's making american pancakes, I can smell them. I've never loved her more in my life.

(Even if I'm still mad at her.)

"You look like shit," she says, matter-of-factly. I don’t even feel offended; it’s true. I look like a mess. "What the hell happened last night? Agatha told me you and Baz had an argument, that’s why he left without us? We were lucky Trixie had two empty spots on her car. And what the hell did you argue about for you to be drunkenly crying for half the night?"

Too many questions for me to process right now. Thankfully they all can be answered at once. "I think Baz broke up with me last night."

"He _what_?" She almost drops the spatula she has in hand. "You _think_ or you _know_?"

"I'm not 100% sure, to be honest," I confess. "But it was a long time coming, so I wouldn't be surprised if he really did."

"What the fuck, Simon? What do you mean _it was a long time_ coming? Why haven't you talked to me about this at all?"

Is she really throwing at my face that I didn't tell her something? "Well, you didn't tell me about your break up with Micah either, so I think we're even."

She _does_ drop the spatula now. "Agatha told you?! She was the only one who knew."

"She accidentally told me; she thought I already knew. Because I _should've known_ by then.Why didn't you tell me?"

She’s done with the pancakes now. She doesn’t answer me until she’s sitting too, both our plates placed in front of each other. I start eating immediately. She doesn’t. “Because I didn’t want you to freak out. Which is _exactly_ what you did when you found out, apparently.”

Well, she has a point. I won’t admit it, though. “I don’t think I would’ve freak out _that much_ if _you_ had told me, instead of finding out when I was drunk and already kinda upset.”

“I’m sorry, Simon,” she really must be sorry; Penny’s not one to easily apologise. “I wanted to tell you. _I was going to_ , I swear. I just didn’t know how. And I’ve been pretty sad about it, actually. I just didn’t want to talk about it.”

“Oh, Penny,” I’ve been so focused on how sad I’ve been, that it hasn't even occurred to me that she could be upset about it. I mean, _of course she is._ I’m such a shit friend. “I’m sorry. Why did you break up?” 

“He broke up with me, actually,” she says. She has only had one bite of her pancakes. (I’m almost done with mine.) “He said he’s been thinking about it and didn’t want to do the whole long distance thing. I wanted to _try_ at least, but he said we hadn’t felt like a _real couple_ \- whatever that means - in a long time, so. Yeah.”

“I’m sorry,” I repeat, because I don’t really know what else to say.

“Why did Baz break up with you?” she asks, changing the subject. “Or, well, why do you _think_ he broke up with you. I don’t actually believe he really did.”

“All summer I’ve been having intrusive thoughts about him wanting to break up with me,” I explain. “I’ve been upset about you all leaving, of course; but every day I was more and more convinced he would dump me once he moved to Oxford.”

“Simon, that’s bullshit,” she says, bluntly. “Why haven’t you told me you’ve been feeling this way?”

“Because; I don’t know, I felt stupid. I felt stupid because you and Micah were gonna be even more far away from each other, and you didn’t seem worried about it. And I didn’t want you to, well, start worrying too.”

“Ironically I think it would’ve been better if I had been a little bit worried,” she says, getting up and taking both our plates (hers still almost full.) “Because I didn’t see it coming, like, at all. I just thought we would be fine. And then he goes and dumps me unannounced two days before he leaves the country. Fucking dickhead.”

“I’m really sorry, Pen.”

“Stop saying that,” she says, washing the plates (she’s put the remaining pancakes in a tupper; God bless her.) “I know you’re sorry.”

I almost say sorry again, but I stop myself at the last moment. “Well, since we’ve both been dumped at the same time, we can be sad together. You know, watch sad movies while we eat ice-cream and all that shit.”

I was trying to make her laugh, but I don’t succeed. “Si, there’s no way Baz _really_ broke up with you; it must be a misunderstanding. Did he actually say the words _I want us to break up_?”

“Well, no,” I admit. “I don’t remember very well what he said, to be honest. I was so drunk. But I know I told him I was upset about him leaving and he got so mad; and then I told him I didn’t want to hold him back, and he got even more mad. And then he left.” 

“And you haven’t talked to him yet?” she asks.

“No,” I say. “I’m, well. I’m afraid he’s gonna say he really wants to break up.”

“You need to talk to him, Simon,” she says, sitting again. “I _promise_ you he doesn’t want to break up. You’re Simon and Baz, you can’t just break up like that.”

 _You’re Simon and Baz._ Aggie told me the same thing. I still don’t know what that means. “Well, and you were _Micah and Penny.”_

I shouldn't have said that. God, why do I have to be such a dick sometimes? “It’s not the same.”

“How is it not the same?”

“It’s just not, okay?”

I don’t want to upset her more, so I let it go. “Let’s just watch a sad movie and eat ice-cream.”

“You just ate a shit ton of pancakes, you still have room for ice-cream?” she asks; at least she’s smiling now. A little bit, at least.

I smile too. “I always have room for ice-cream.”

**Baz**

It's been four days and Snow and I are still not taking.

I can't remember the last time we went four days without speaking to each other. I don't think it exists such time, actually. Even when we were supposedly hating each other; we still saw each other at class every day. And we always found a reason to fight about.

This time we're not even _fighting._ We're simply ignoring each other. Which is way, way worse in my opinion.

“Baz?” asks Dev, getting me out of my head. “Are you still here, mate?”

Dev and Niall came a while ago; I wasn’t answering their texts and they thought an intervention was necessary. An intervention, in this case, means playing Mario Kart for hours in Fiona's living room, apparently. (Thankfully she’s been out all day.)

(They’re just trying to cheer me up, which I appreciate.)

“Sorry,” I say, realising now that I’ve been going backwards for half the course. “I’m just distracted, that’s all.”

Niall pauses the game. "Are you and Simon still not talking?"

Oh, so here it comes. The _actual_ intervention, I mean. The part when we _actually talk._

"No,” I confess. “He hasn't even texted me."

"You could also text him, you know?" says Dev, as if it hasn’t occurred to me.

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, I know that. But he's the one who broke up with me; so I think he should be the one to reach out _first._ "

"I have a hard time believing he did actually break up with you,” says Niall, not for the first time. “You're not even sure if he did."

He’s right; I’m not sure that’s really what happened. He was upset, and very, very drunk. Maybe he didn’t mean any of that. 

Or maybe it’s just wishful thinking. Maybe I’m not ready to accept the fact that he did, in fact, break up with me. Maybe I just don’t want it to hurt like hell (more than it’s already hurting.)

“Well, I don’t want to text him first and find out he actually did, so.”

“That doesn’t make any sense, mate,” says Dev. “You’ll have to find out sooner or later.”

I know I’m being ridiculous. I know I’ll have to face the music eventually. I just can’t _right now._

“Well, let’s just hope it’s later than sooner, then,” I say. “Restart the game, will you?”

Niall does as I say, but keeps talking anyways. (I was hoping the conversation would be over, to be honest.) “We’re just saying that Snow would _never_ break up with you. That boy’s crazy for you; everyone knows it.”

“Yeah, mate,” agrees Dev. “You’re Simon and Baz. You can’t just break up like that. Like it’s nothing.”

I used to think that too. I used to think there was nothing that could ever get between us; that we matched, in all the ways that mattered. That we were just gonna be together forever and no one would ever question it. Because _we’re Simon and Baz._ And I thought that meant _everything._

Maybe that doesn’t mean _anything,_ after all.

Maybe I was wrong.

**Simon**

“Are you okay, kiddo?” asks Ebb. “You haven’t barely eaten anything.”

It’s been a week, and Baz and I still haven’t talked. I tried to; so many times. I’ve drafted God-knows-how many texts I didn’t end up sending, and I’ve been so close to calling him a million times too; but I always end up chickening.

She's right; we're having dinner and I haven't even finished half my plate. That's very rare of me.

(Turns out a hangover can't make me part ways with food; but heartbreak can.)

"I'm-" I was gonna lie and say I'm fine; but Ebb has seen how I've been like this past week. She knows I'm _not_ fine. "I'm not okay, actually."

"What's wrong?" she asks. "Do you feel ill?"

"No, it's not that," I assure her.

"What is it, then?" she sounds so worried; I hate making her worry.

"It's just that, well. Baz and I had an argument. And I'm, you know. Upset about it."

"Oh, honey," she looks less worried once I've explained myself, for some reason. "I'm sorry. You'll figure it out in no time, though. You're Simon and Baz."

I don't want to snap at Ebb, so I contain myself; but if anyone else says that _you're Simon and Baz_ bullshit again I'm gonna go feral.

What does that mean, anyway?

Nothing. 

It means _nothing._

**Baz**

I'm moving for good to Oxford tomorrow, and I still haven’t heard from Simon.

It’s been _two weeks_. Any hope I could've had about our relationship not being really over it’s gone by now.

He hasn’t even texted me to say goodbye. I can’t believe he won’t even say goodbye to me.

So yeah, we’re over. Broken up for good. And that’s how things are. I’ve accepted it. 

I’ve accepted it, but I’m not _over_ it. I’m truly and painfully heartbroken, actually. I should be packing the last few things I still need to bring to my new flat; instead I’m on Fiona’s sofa napping. And by _napping_ I mean laying here with my eyes closed, moping silently, and feeling sorry for myself. 

(And thinking about Simon and how much I miss him.)

“What the hell are you doing still there?” asks Fiona, coming back home. (I’m in the same position she left me.) I try to ignore her, but of course it doesn’t work. “Don’t pretend to be asleep, you don’t fool me. Get up right the fuck now and go pack. You’ll hate yourself later if you leave it for tomorrow morning.”

“Leave me alone, Fiona,” I don’t even open my eyes.

She does the opposite, sitting next to me on the sofa; making me sit up in order to fit both of us. (I actually whine at that. I’m not even embarrassed about it.) 

“Is Snow sleeping here tonight or will he come tomorrow morning?” she asks. I haven’t told her about what happened, so I can’t blame her. But, _fuck_ , does it hurt just to hear his name.

“He’s not coming,” I announce.

“What do you mean he’s not coming?”

“He’s not,” I insist. “He broke up with me two weeks ago.”

It’s difficult to catch Fiona by surprise, but I think I just did. “He did _not._ ”

“He did,” I repeat. Fuck, I’ve been trying so hard not to cry, but there’s nothing I can do right now to stop my eyes filling with tears. “He broke up with me, Fiona. And now I don’t know what to do about it.”

I must look really hurt and pathetic, because she actually wraps her arms around my shoulders, and lets me cry on her chest, as if I was a little child. (The last and only time she hugged me like this was when my mum died; and the thought of it only makes me cry more.)

“This doesn’t make any sense,” she says. “Why would he break up with you?”

“Because he’s an idiot.”

“That he is, boyo,” she agrees. “I’m gonna kill him.”

We end up packing together the next morning.

**Simon**

Baz left yesterday and he didn’t even text me goodbye. 

I was supposed to go with him, and spend his first weekend there together. Instead here I am; laying on my bed with my laptop probably too close to my face.

All I've been doing (apart from going to work) is watch trashy reality TV shows on _Netflix_ while I cuddle with Nico in bed. I've seen them all: _Too Hot to Handle,_ _The Circle_ , _Love is Blind..._

Right now I'm watching _Floor is Lava_. It's definitely my favourite; just because I know Baz would hate it.

" _This is so stupid, Snow,"_ he would've had said, but he would've watched it with me anyways.

I can't believe I'm crying watching _Floor is Lava_ because it made me think of Baz.

(***)

“Simon?” says Ebb, knocking on my door. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah,” I say, extending my arm over the dog to pause the show.

She opens the door, but I can’t see her because I’m laying facing the opposite way. “Penny just texted me. She’s worried because you haven’t been answering her texts or calls since she left.”

It’s true; Penny left a couple days ago and I haven’t said anything to her since then. I’m such a bad friend. “Yeah, I’ve been distracted. I’ll text her now.”

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” she sits on the bed beside me. “You’ve been so down lately.”

“Baz and I had an argument.”

“That was more than two weeks ago.”

“Yeah.”

“And you haven’t figured it out yet?”

“He broke up with me.”

Fuck, saying it out loud makes it hurt even more. Makes it more _real_. But it is real. I haven’t told Ebb until now because I was actually hoping we would work this out. But I have to face it: Baz and I are no longer together. _He broke up with me._ He doesn’t want me anymore.

“Oh, baby,” she puts a hand on my shoulder. “Are you sure that’s what happened? That doesn’t sound like Baz at all.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” I say, turning around so I’m facing her. “He’s already left for Oxford. And he didn’t even say goodbye to me.”

“Simon, honey,” she says, and I start crying immediately. 

I move until I’m sitting next to her, and she hugs me instantly, and I know she meant it to be comforting, but it actually makes me cry harder.

“What am I gonna do now?” I sob, “I love him, Ebb. _I love him_.”

“I know, baby. I know.”

She kisses my head. I cry for a long time.


	5. what the fuck am i doing?

**Baz**

Today marks a week since I moved to Oxford, and I've been absolutely miserable.

All I’ve been doing is going to class, sitting on the last row available and trying to make myself invisible. Then I either go to the library to study, or straight home to cry. 

I literally haven’t talked to anyone since I’ve moved here; not to my family, nor my friends, and especially to any of my classmates. I’ve been actively avoiding every single one of them. (Not that many have approached me, to be honest. I have a resting bitch face on a good day; I can’t even imagine how I must look right now.)

Well, I haven’t talked to anyone except with Shepard; but every encounter and conversation with this guy has been quite literally against my will. 

He lives in the flat next door, and, somehow, he always has something to say to me when we run into each other on the stairs. Lately he’s developed the habit to knock on my door without any reason, really. He’s from America and has moved here recently (information I’ve gained, again, without any kind of consent from my part), and I never see him with anyone, so I think he’s just lonely. 

That, or I’m his charity case; which I don’t like to think about.

Today I’ve come home to cry, so unfortunately I’m here when he knocks on the door.

I could just not open it; it’s not like I haven’t thought about it. But I’m lonely too, so. Instead of answering when someone I already know texts me or calls me, I decide to take the company this practically stranger is offering to me.

The first thing he says when I open the door is: “God, Baz, you’re very pathetic. Look at you.”

I mean, it’s not like I disagree. Today I’m especially pathetically looking: in my pajamas, eyes red from crying, a blanket on my shoulders and wrapped around my body. (I'm cold all the time without Simon being my personal furnace. I'm afraid I'll never be warm again without him.)

I bet he can also hear the movie I was watching from here; the first bad romantic comedy I saw on _Netflix._ I didn’t bother to pause it. 

I glance at him anyways. “Well, did you come to insult me, or do you want something?”

“Yes,” he says. “I’m getting you out of here. I’ve had enough.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” I say, stubbornly.

“Yes, you are,” he insists. “You’re gonna get dressed and we’re gonna go drink something and you’re gonna tell me why the hell you’re sad all the time.”

I didn’t wanna go, really; but I always end up doing what he says, for some reason. Maybe it’s because I don’t have enough strength to fight someone right now.

That’s how I ended up on a bar, beer in hand, Shepard sitting in front of me.

(And I thought I couldn’t get any more pathetic. What a fool.)

“So?” he asks, once the waiter's gone.

“So what?” 

“So, are you gonna tell me why you’re depressed?”

“I’m not depressed,” I correct, rolling my eyes. “I’m heartbroken.”

“Oh, it makes sense, I guess.”

I frown. “What do you mean?”

He takes a sip before answering. “I mean, all of you screams _my highschool girlfriend_ \- or boyfriend. Girlfriend or boyfriend?”

“Boyfriend,” I clear out. 

“Okay, so all of you screams _my highschool boyfriend just broke up with me and because I’m a teenager I’m gonna mop about it as if I just lost the love of my life_.”

“He really was the love of my life,” I say, like an idiot. My voice even breaks a little bit and God, I really hate myself.

He laughs, the asshole. “How do you know that? You’re only - how old are you?”

“Eighteen.”

“You’re only eighteen, Baz,” he finishes. “I can guarantee you that guy wasn’t the love of your life.”

I wanna argue with him; I wanna tell him he didn’t know us together, he has no idea what he’s talking about. Maybe it’s not the usual between eighteen years old, I don’t know; but I really saw him as the love of my life. I _still_ see him as such. And I can’t imagine not being in love with him. I don’t think that’s a possibility for me.

But I don’t wanna dwell on it, so instead I say: “I can’t help but feel like he is.”

He must see he’s hurt my feelings when he was supposed to help, because he doesn’t insist. “Well, what you clearly need is a rebound. You’re a handsome guy, it shouldn’t be difficult for you to find somebody else. Just guys or also girls?”

“Just guys.”

“Okay, I can work with that. I know some guys who might potentially be interested. Not me, though, sorry. Don’t take offence; you really are handsome. But you’re not my type.”

I don’t have any intention of hooking up with anyone (much less with Shepard - Lord save me), but that makes me laugh. “That’s fine, Shep. I’ll live with it.”

**Simon**

“Simon, you’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m not, Penny! Just - look at his _Instagram_.”

I know I’m being insane, but I can’t help it. I’m on a _Skype_ call with Penny and Agatha and all I’ve been talking about is Baz.

Nothing new, really. Penny says she’s re-establishing my initial _Baz quota._ She says I’m worse than ever.

(I’d accuse her of not getting it; but she’s literally going through a break up now too, so I have to shut it.)

I just miss him so much, all the time. So I cope with it stalking his _Instagram_ all day and night. I’ve gone to the extent of turning his notifications on; I’m really losing it. 

He didn’t post much at first, so there was little to look through. But he’s been posting more recently, and there’s a guy - Shepard, I’ve learned - who just keeps appearing on everything he uploads. 

Really, whatever he’s doing: going to a uni party, having a posh brunch, playing _FIFA_ or _Mario Kart,_ watching a movie; name it. He’s always with him. 

And it’s driving me absolutely mad. That’s literally what I was scared about: Him meeting someone clearly more interesting than me in less than a month living there.

“We’ve looked, Si,” says Aggie. “It’s obvious they’re just friends.”

“Not that obvious to me,” I hum.

“For fuck’s sake,” exclaims Penny. “You’re just blinded by jealousy. Aggie’s right; they’re just friends.”

“Of course I’m jealous,” I say, no problem admitting it. “I’m jealous, and bitter, and sad. That’s probably clouding my judgment, but, I don’t know. This Shepard guy seems cute, and nice, and funny. I hate him.”

"I mean, he _is_ cute…” says Penny, quickly adding: “But he's not Baz's type at all."

"And what is Baz type?" I ask.

" _You_ are his type, Simon,” says Agatha, as if it’s obvious.

Well, that’s the thing, isn’t it? I don’t think I’m his type anymore. 

I don’t think he thinks about me at all anymore.

**Baz**

So, against all odds, Shepard and I actually become friends. 

It’s not what I wanted, but I’m starting to realise it’s what I _needed_. He’s good at distracting me.

I haven’t been so extremely down lately. It’s been a couple of days since I last cried; that is a record. I swear I’ve been crying every single day since I’ve moved here.

I’ve also started to pick up calls and text people back; I even _skyped_ with Dev and Niall the other day. And I talked on the phone with Fiona, because she was two missed calls away from literally coming here.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m still completely shattered inside; but at least now I’m capable of functioning like a semi-normal human being.

Today is Friday, and Shep has decided that every Friday we’re gonna order take away, watch movies ‘till sunlight and have a sleepover. “ _It’s a tradition,_ ” he said when I opened the door, his hands full of indian food, even if we’ve literally never done that before. “ _It’s a tradition from now on,_ ” he explained when I pointed it out.

We’re on my sofa, me scrolling through _Netflix,_ him on his phone, when he says. “Your ex’s name was Simon Snow, right?”

I’ve learned that you never know where Shep is gonna go when he opens his mouth, but I admit I wasn’t expecting that at all. “Yeah, that’s him. Why?” 

“He’s been watching all my _Instastories_ lately,” he says. “And just now he’s liked a post of mine from two years ago, by accident I guess.”

Fucking hell, he’s an idiot. “That sounds like him, yeah. He’s been stalking me too; he’s as subtle as an elephant. He must have seen you in my _Stories_.”

“Fuck me, _he is_ cute,” says Shep, I guess he’s looking at his profile now. “Those curls are adorable, and his shoulders are literally to die for. Why haven’t you shown me a picture of him before? Now I get why you’re obsessed with him.”

I look over his shoulder to see what picture he’s looking at. It’s one I took, actually; from a month or so before we broke up. He’s sitting on my bed, wearing joggers and a tank top (Shepard is right, he really has amazing shoulders.) He’s not looking directly at the camera, he’s looking at me behind it; I must’ve said something funny, because he’s laughing, all his teeth on display, his eyes slightly closed. 

It’s hurting my chest just to look at it. “Stop drooling all over my ex boyfriend, will you?”

“I’m not!” he says, moving on to other posts. “Well, maybe I am, a little bit. Sorry. He really is hot.”

“So he’s your type and I’m not?” I was trying to joke, but it came out more defensively than I meant to. I don’t know why I’m being like this; it’s not like Shep’s gonna hook up with him for real.

“You know who’s my type?” he says, showing me a picture of Snow and Bunce. “This girl.”

“That’s Penny,” I say, thankful we’re not talking about how hot Simon is anymore. “Simon’s best friend.”

“Baz, I think I just fell in love with her at first sight,” he says. “You have to introduce her to me.”

Fucking hell, and he calls me dramatic. “She’s _his_ best friend, not mine.”

“Well, we could have a double date some time?”

He actually sounds excited about it. “Excuse me, have you forgotten the reason I’ve been fucked up all month? He’s broken up with me. We’re not having a double date, for fuck’s sake.”

“Well, he’s been stalking you, hasn’t he? Maybe he wants to get back together.”

I snort. “You’re unbelievable. _Now_ you want me to get back with him? What about me needing to move on and him not being the love of my life?”

“That was before seeing him, dude.” 

“That was before seeing _her,_ you mean,” I correct.

He blushes a little bit, surprisingly. I’ve never seen Shep getting embarrassed about anything. “Look, we’re bros, right? Bros help each other.”

“ _Bros_?” I ask, laughing. “What are we now, straight guys?”

“ _Ew,_ ” he says, actually looking disgusted. “Don’t ever say that again.”

**Simon**

It’s another day of me doing mediocre at work when, all of a sudden, Fiona storms in, almost tearing the door down.

“Bloody hell, Fiona-”

She speaks before I can finish my sentence. “You absolute numpty. You pathetic excuse of a human being. You’re talking with Basil right fucking now. I’ve had enough of this nonsense.”

“Fuck, Fiona,” I say, hiding her behind the wardrobe I was assembling. “You can’t just come harassing me while I’m working! Thank God my boss isn’t here right now - or any customers.”

“I don’t fucking care,” she keeps shouting; as if that wasn’t clear already. “Baz’s been a fucking mess since you stupidly broke up with him. He’s only picked up the phone _once_ since he left. So I don’t mind how you do it, but you’re fixing it. _Now._ Have I made myself clear?”

“What the actual fuck are you talking about?” I say, confused. “He’s the one who broke up with me!”

She can’t just come here to accuse me of this nonsense! _I’m_ the one who’s been a fucking mess while he starts his new life with his new _friend_. Isn’t that obvious?

“That’s certainly not what he thinks happened, boyo, that much I can tell!” 

Is she being serious right now? “B-but that doesn’t make any sense. Why would I break up with him?”

“That’s what I told him!” Someone was about to come inside the store, but they left as soon as they saw Fiona screaming. “Are you telling me you’ve both been thinking it was the other who wanted to break up? God, you really are useless."

This can’t be right. We can’t possibly be so stupid.

“Look,” she says, after a couple of seconds of me not saying anything. “You really need to talk to him. I promise you he didn’t wanna break up. I mean, _You're Simon and Baz_ , for fuck's sake.”

Again with that bullshit? "Why does everyone keep saying that? I don't fucking know what that means!"

"Of course you know what that means, you idiot,” she says. “It means you're fucking _Simon and Baz._ "

“That means nothing,” I say, almost whispering.

“You don’t believe that,” she says. “Look, I don’t know how to explain it, okay? But there’s nothing I’m sure of in this life. I don’t know what I want, or where I’ll be in a few years; shit, I don’t even know what I’ll be doing _tomorrow_. The only thing I’ve been subconsciously counting on is in you and Baz being together. The other day I was looking through my sister’s old clothes, I saw a very beautiful dress and I kid you not, the first thing I thought was _I can wear that when Baz and Simon get married._ And then I thought _oh shit, they’re broken up_. So, you need to get back together. Because you can’t just leave me without the only constant thing in my life; I’ll become crazy. And because that dress really was beautiful, and I need an excuse to wear it.”

I blink at her a couple of times. I don’t know if that was the stupidest thing she’s ever said or something actually very, very touching. “The fact that you don’t have any friends potentially getting married before us is very sad, let me tell you.”

“You little shit, that was not the fucking point,” she says, sighing dramatically. “Well, they can’t say I haven’t tried. If you want to stop being miserable, just fucking talk to Baz, okay?”

And just like that, she’s gone as soon as she came.

(***)

I'm walking Nico after my work shift and I can’t stop thinking about what Fiona said.

Not the dress part, that I’ve concluded was stupid.

But the _Baz didn’t actually want to break up with me_ part. That can’t be right, can it? He would’ve talked to me by now if that were the case. 

But what if it’s true? What if he’s also waiting on me to make the first move?

We arrive at the park and I unleash him, sitting on a bench while he runs free, playing with other dogs. (It’s dead cute.)

I grab my phone from my pocket and open _Instagram_ , going to Baz’s profile out of habit.

He has posted some _Stories_ , so I click on them. One is a picture of a table full of what appears to be chinese food containers, the other is a selfie with his new friend with the text _second friday tradition date_ on it. (The word _date_ literally makes my chest hurt.) He’s tagged, so I go to his profile next ( _@shepardfromomaha_ , what a stupid nickname) and see he has posted a _Story_ too. It’s a video, so I raise the volume a little so I can hear. 

The camera is showing Baz sitting on his sofa, looking at the TV; they must be playing something, because he has a controller wrapped between both hands.

“Baz is mad because he’s a sore loser,” sing-songs Shepard from behind the phone.

“Shut up, I’m mad because you’re a cheater!” he accuses him; he doesn’t look angry at all though. And trust me, I know what angry Baz looks like. He’s actually smiling; he looks so good. It almost makes me cry.

“How does one cheat playing _FIFA_ , anyway?” 

Baz rolls his eyes, a gesture that is _so him._ “Shut the fuck up, I call a rematch.” 

Shepard laughs and the video ends. I watch it three times back to back, because I’m pathetic. 

Nico comes running before I’ve finished my third rewatch, paws on my knees, trying to reach the phone. 

“You wanna see Baz?” I ask, and he actually cries when he hears his name. (This dog fucking loves him more than he loves me, I swear.)

He jumps on the bench and sits next to me. I restart the video once more, and he starts crying even louder once he sees Baz, putting his whole face on the screen, as if to reach him through it. 

“Yeah, I miss him too, buddy,” I say. I show him the video one more time and then lock my phone, putting it in my pocket again.

Fuck, I miss him so much. I miss him so much I think it’ll kill me. 

“What should I do?” I ask the dog, petting his head. He’s looking at me like I’m an idiot. I can almost hear him saying: “ _What the fuck do you think you’re doing? You’re Simon and Baz._ ”

I grab my phone and watch the video again (because, again, I’m pathetic) and this time I realise he’s wearing a jumper I’m pretty sure is mine. 

“He’s wearing my jumper,” I whisper to no one. “ _He’s wearing my jumper._ ”

Does that mean he misses me too? Does that mean Fiona was right, and he still wants me?

I open his text conversation and I start writing and deleting everything before sending it. 

_“Baz, do you miss me?”_

_“Baz, I miss you.”_

_“Do you really think I broke up with you?”_

_“Do you want me back?”_

_“Please, take me back.”_

_“I love you.”_

_“I love you.”_

_“Baz, I love you.”_

I love him. God, I love him so much. _We’re Simon and Baz._ For fuck’s sake, we’re Simon and Baz! Of course that means something; that means _everything, how_ could I’ve thought otherwise?

What the fuck am I doing? What _the actual fuck_ am I doing sitting here, when I could be talking to him? When I could be _with him_?

I’m so fucking stupid. 

I put the leash on Nico again and practically run home.

(***)

“Ebb, can I please borrow your van?” I ask as soon as I open the door, Nico running inside.

She comes out of the kitchen. “Did you say something?”

“Your van,” I repeat. “Can I borrow it?”

I know she doesn’t have work tomorrow, so I’m already grabbing the keys before she even replays. “Yes, where are you going?” 

“Oxford.”

She wasn’t expecting that, clearly. “What do you mean _Oxford_?”

“I’m gonna see Baz,” I explain.

“Oh,” she gasps. “Are you back together?”

“No,” I say, already out of the door. “That’s why I’m going: to win him back.”


	6. we're simon and baz

**Baz**

After stuffing ourselves silly with chinese food, we sit on the sofa and Shepard puts on this fairly awful action movie; I didn’t even catch the title. He banned romantic and sad movies, because he says they upset me too much, and I banned _Disney_ movies, because I have enough of them when I meet with my sisters. So this was all we had left, apparently.

We’re not paying any attention to it, so it doesn’t really matter if it’s bad or not. He’s showing me pictures of a guy (Lamb, a friend of a friend of his) he’s trying to set me up with, so I don’t really know what’s worse.

“C’mon, Baz,” he says. “He’s hot; you know he is.”

“He really is hot,” I admit. “But that’s not the point. I’m just - not ready for that yet.”

He snorts; that snort of his that by now I know it means _you’re being a melodramatic teenager again. “It’s_ just sex, Baz; I’m not telling you to marry him.”

“I don’t think I can do _just sex,_ ” I say, sincerely.

I’ve ever only had sex with Simon, and it wasn’t obviously _just sex_ with him. There’s nothing wrong with it, of course; I just don’t think I’m the type. I’m probably the last casual person on this earth. 

“What do you mean you can’t do _just sex_?” he asks, and I roll my eyes; sometimes it seems we’re coming from two different worlds.

“I just don’t see the appeal in doing that with someone I don’t love,” I explain.

I don’t see the appeal in doing that with anyone who isn’t _Simon,_ full stop. But I don’t say it; he’s judging me enough already.

“You sentimental prick,” he says. Yep, he’s definitely judging me.

He seems to give up, though, thankfully.

We don't say anything for a while, actually watching the movie now. (I hate every second of it.)

It surprises me when he suddenly asks: “You really are hung up on this guy, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” I say; it’s obvious I am, there’s no point denying it. “And I’ll probably be for a very, very long time. I know you think it’s bullshit and that I’m too young, but he really was it for me. We met when we were eleven and I can’t remember a day where I wasn’t hopelessly in love with him since then. He’s the only one I’ve ever wanted. He’s the only one I _still_ want. And I can’t get over three years of my life in just a month - I just can’t.”

I thought he'd call me dramatic again, but he actually gets serious for once. "That sucks, man. I'm sorry."

“Yeah,” I whisper.

“Look, I’ve never had a relationship like that, so I don’t really know what I’m talking about. Maybe we need to change strategies; if _Plan: Moving On_ isn’t working, maybe we need to start thinking on _Plan B: Getting Back Together.”_

I shake my head. “If he wanted me back, he would’ve told me so by now. I know him, he’s reckless, and impulsive, and brave; so he probably would’ve come here unannounced to tell me so. And he hasn’t, so, yeah. I don’t have much hope left.”

“Who knows,” he says, getting excited all of a sudden. “Maybe he’s on his way right now. Maybe he just now realised what a mistake he’s made and he’s coming to tell you.”

“Don’t say that,” I say. “Don’t say that because he’s not.”

His eyes light up again. “What if it’s you this time?”

I don’t like where this is going. “What do you mean?” 

“What if it’s you the one who’s reckless, and impulsive, and brave this time?” he clears out. 

“I’m not going to Watford to ask him to take me back, Shep,” I say before he can keep on with this nonsense.

“Why not?” he actually sounds disappointed. “It would be, I don’t know, romantic.”

“It would be humiliating,” I correct. “I’m not driving an hour and a half to have my heart broken again.”

“But-”

“Shut up,” I interrupt, standing up. “I’m going to the bathroom before you say anything else stupid. Pick another move meanwhile, this one is terrible.”

He sighs dramatically. “I was only trying to help!”

I hear the doorbell ringing while I’m washing my hands.

“I’ll get it!” I hear Shep through the door.

I frown, surprised; the only one who ever knocks on my door is Shepard, and he’s already inside. 

Who the hell could that be?

**Simon**

I ring the doorbell before I can think better of it.

I almost faint with nerves when I see the door opening; but it’s not Baz who I see on the other end. It’s his friend. _Shepard._

I don’t know why it surprises me; I obviously saw on _Instagram_ they were together, I should’ve seen it coming. 

I haven’t thought this through, clearly.

We stare at each other in silence for a few seconds, awkwardly. He’s looking at me with wide eyes, mouth slightly open. (He _really_ is cute. It pisses me off.)

“ _Em,_ hi?” I finally say, like a moron. “I-I’m looking for Baz.”

He lets out a chuckle, unexpectedly. “ _Holy shit._ You’re the ex boyfriend, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” I say. “And you’re not the new one, right? Please tell me you’re not.”

(He looks far too happy I’m here to be, but I need to be sure.)

He laughs again. “Fuck, no. We’re friends. It would be a nightmare to date him; you’re all he talks about.”

I think I’m blushing a little; but before I can say anything to that he keeps talking. “I can’t fucking believe you’re actually here, dude. I must have summoned you or something. I’m a fucking seer, I swear to God.”

I frown. What the fuck is he talking about? “What are you-”

“ _Simon_?”

I look above Shepard’s shoulder and I see Baz standing there, body all tense, looking like a deer in headlights. 

I spent all the time driving rehearsing in my head what I was gonna say to him once I got here; but as soon as I see him it all crumbles down, my eyes filling with tears immediately. 

Shepard gets out of the way, stepping outside as I get in literally running, colliding with Baz in a hug that almost sends us both to the floor.

(I hear the door closing. Shepard must have left.)

He hugs me back immediately, his arms strongly wrapping around my shoulders, my head on the crock of his neck.

(God, he smells so good. I’ve missed him _so fucking much._ )

“I’m sorry,” I cry, probably ruining his jumper ( _my jumper_ ) with tears and snot. (But I notice he’s crying too, so it’s okay.) “Baz, I’m so sorry. I love you.”

“I love you too,” he says, and I could die from happiness right now. I thought I would never hear him say those words to me ever again.

“I’m an idiot,” I say, strengthening my grip on him even more, if it’s possible. “I thought you didn’t want me anymore.”

“You broke up with me because you thought _I_ didn’t want you anymore?” he sounds confused.

“No,” I explain. “I didn’t mean to break up with you. I thought _you_ broke up with me.”

“What?” he says, one hand moving to my hair. “I thought _you_ broke up with me.”

“Yeah, I know,” I say, and I almost melt when he starts leaving light kisses all over my face. “Fiona told me earlier today. I would never break up with you, Baz. I spent all summer thinking you would break up with me once you moved here, and it was killing me. And then we had that stupid argument and I thought you actually did end things with me, and I’ve been absolutely wrecked since then.”

He grabs my cheeks with both hands, making me look at him. “Are you telling me we’ve both been miserable for a month thinking it was the other who wanted to break up?” 

“Yeah,” I confirm. “We’re fucking useless.”

He kisses me then; we’re still both crying, so it’s a mess, but I don’t mind. I haven’t kissed him _in a month_ ; I’d take whatever at this point.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you so much,” he says against my mouth.

“I’ve missed you too,” I sob. “I thought it was going to kill me.”

**Baz**

We end up in my bed, Simon shirtless on his back, me above him between his legs, kissing his chest.

“Shouldn’t we talk some more first?” he asks, sighing when I reach that mole behind his left nipple.

“Later,” I hum against his skin.

We _should_ probably talk some more first; there are things we definitely still need to address. But I’ve spent a month without him, and I feel like kissing every single one of his moles is more urgent right now.

“ _Baz,_ " he moans once I next get to his nipple, sucking it between my teeth. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“Me too,” I say against his skin. “So fucking much.”

**Simon**

We’re both stripped down to our pants in mere minutes, but Baz seems adamant on kissing every single part of my body before moving on to _other things._

I wouldn’t complain in a normal situation; having Baz’s mouth all over me is always amazing. But after a month without him, without _sex_ with him, I’m so hard already that it literally hurts. 

“Baz, _please_ ,” I whimper. He’s kissing the inside of my thighs now, _so close to where I really want it,_ it’s driving my crazy.

“Please what?” he asks, teasing. ( _So frustrating_.)

“Please fuck me,” I say, moaning embarrassingly when he starts mouthing my dick through my pants, unexpectedly. “ _Baz,_ I’m gonna literally die if I don’t have you inside of me in the next two minutes.”

“You’re so impatient,” he says, but he starts pushing my pants down. _Finally._

“Yours too,” I say; he does it immediately. (I guess I’m not the only one being impatient anymore.)

He reaches to his nightstand, grabbing a bottle of lube out of the drawer. “I don’t have any condoms.”

"Don't care; we don't need one."

We use condoms sometimes (the clean up is easier), but not always. We've only had sex with each other, so they're not really necessary.

Unless… unless he's been with someone else during our time apart. (Just because he hasn’t been with Shepard doesn’t mean he hasn’t been with anyone else…)

The mere thought of it makes me want to cry, but I have to know.

"Have you been with someone else?"

" _What_?" he asks; he was already coating his fingers with lube, but he’s stopped now.

"Have you slept with someone else?" I repeat. "That's why you're suggesting a condom?"

He looks at me in disbelief. "Of course I haven't. And I'm not suggesting a condom; I'm just letting you know I don't have any."

 _Fuck,_ I’m fucking this up already, aren’t I?

“Sorry,” I say, kissing his hand not covered in lube. “I’m an idiot. I’ve spent so many days obsessing over you being with some other guy; it drove me insane.”

“Simon, I don’t want anybody else,” his eyes are soft again; and he doesn’t sound so angry anymore. “Only you. _Always you._ ”

“I know,” I say, taking his other hand, putting in between my legs. “I know now.”

**Baz**

Simon Snow looks impossibly stunning with three of my fingers up his ass.

I mean, he always looks handsome. But now, eyes closed, flushed red to his chest, a little bit of sweat running down his face. His mouth letting out the most beautiful and sinful sounds I’ve ever heard… 

Impossibly stunning. (I could possibly come just watching him like this.)

“You’re so beautiful,” I say; he _needs_ to know how breathtaking I find him.

“ _Mhmm,_ Baz,” he says; I don’t think he’s had a coherent thought in a while now. “I’m good. Ready. Please.”

“You sure?” I ask. With the way he’s moving his hips to fuck himself on my fingers I’m pretty sure he is; but better be safe than sorry.

“ _Yes_ ,” he insists. “Please, I need it. _I need you._ ”

I could tease him a little bit longer (I’d really like his cock on my mouth right now), but he’s gonna come if I keep going. And I really, _really_ wanna fuck him. 

There’s nothing I want more right now.

**Simon**

Baz is on top of me, my legs wrapped around his middle. He has bottomed out, finally all of him inside of me. I feel so full, _so fucking good_ , I almost feel like crying.

“ _Please_ ,” I say, for the millionth time. I don’t even know what I’m asking please for, but it seems to be the only word I remember right now.

“ _Shh, love_ ,” he says, kissing my neck reassuringly. “I’ve got you.”

He starts moving then, slowly ( _frustratingly slowly_ ), but it has me moaning and groaning immediately. 

“Fuck, you feel amazing,” he whispers in my ear ( _so fucking hot._ )

“You too,” I say, my arms around his shoulders, holding on for dear life. “ _So fucking good_. I’ve missed you so much.”

**Baz**

I’ve lost count on how many times we’ve said _I’ve missed you_ by now.

(It doesn’t feel like _enough_ times, though.)

His hands are on my butt cheeks now, pressing hard; and he's so tight and warm around me, it's making me lose my mind.

"Fuck, there, _right there_ ," he whispers, breathlessly. " _Faster._ "

I do as he says, even if that means I'm probably gonna come in, like, three minutes. (Him too, thought; he's slightly shaking all over, babbling incoherently, and I know that means he's close by now.)

He could probably come untouched (he's done it before, it's insanely hot), but I don't think I can last long enough for that, so I reach between his legs with one hand, making a tight grip around his dick, just as he likes it.

" _Fuck,_ " he swears; he's so out of it, it's been a while since we've had sex _this intense_.

I kiss him then; it's not a good kiss objectively, we're more like breathing in each other's mouths than anything else, and the movement of my hips couldn't be less coordinated with the one in my hand, but it's perfect anyway. It's perfect because it's _him._

" _Baz_ " he says it like a plea; he moans again when I jerk him faster.

"C'mon," I say against his mouth. "C'mon, love, let it go."

I move to kiss at his neck again, sucking hard. He loves it when I suck hard enough to leave a mark (I'd mark him _everywhere_ if I could.)

I can't believe I spent _a month_ thinking I wouldn't have this anymore. 

I can't believe I almost lost this, _lost him._ There's no way sex with anyone else could ever feel _this good._

It feels this good because I love him. I love him with everything I have, everything I am. I'll never feel this way for anyone else, and I don't want to.

I love him, and he loves me. And that's _everything._

 _I love him_ , so I tell him. "I love you, Simon. So fucking much."

I tell him over and over again, until I make both of us come.

**Simon**

"I can't believe you seriously thought I was dating _Shepard,_ " says Baz. "He refers to me as his _bro._ It literally can't get any less sexy than that."

We're back in bed now, after a much needed shower. I'm on my pants, he's put a shirt on, and I have him curled around me, his head on my chest. 

My fingers are running through his hair (soft, always so soft), and we're _talking._ We're _actually_ talking for once; I've told him all about my insecurities about him leaving me, and he's told me about how he knew I wasn't fine and he thought it was his fault.

(He's told me he would _never_ leave me, and I told him it wasn't his fault. It was as easy as that, wasn't it? God, we could have avoided so much unnecessary pain if we would've just _talked_ sooner.)

"Shut up," I say, understanding now how absurd that train of thought was. "Anything you post on _Instagram,_ you're always together. It made me paranoid."

"Of course I'm always with him, he's my only friend here," he says, smiling up at me. "Besides, he seemed to be more into you than into me."

I frown. "Really?"

"Yeah, he saw a picture of you and practically drooled all over his phone."

That makes me snort, even if I don't exactly get it. How can someone be attracted to me and not to Baz? It doesn't make any sense.

(I refrain myself from saying it out loud, because I know now it hurts Baz when I think so low of myself. And I know I _need_ to stop thinking so low of myself. I need to stop thinking I don't deserve Baz. _He loves me._ He wants to be with me. _And I deserve it._ )

"Too bad I'm already taken," I say instead, kissing his forehead.

"He's a nice guy, really," he says. "You're gonna like him, once you get to know him better."

"Okay," I say, promising myself I'm gonna give him a chance. He does seem cool, really.

"He was really into Bunce, to be honest," Baz says. "Also saw a picture of her and he's in love with her already, apparently."

I chuckle. "She said he's cute, once. Maybe we can introduce them, see if there's something there."

After cuddling for a little longer, we order a pizza for me (because I haven't had dinner and I'm starving); we sit on the sofa while I eat, watching the first decent looking movie we found on _Netflix._

Just like every single night we've spent together, honestly.

Because it doesn't matter if we're three minutes or an hour and a half away. It doesn't matter, because when we're together, everything is still the same.

I look at him, chewing on a piece of pizza he's snatched from me, hair up in a messy bun, eyes concentrated on the TV. And I get it, _really_ get it, now.

Nothing's gonna change.

Because we're Simon and Baz.

And we're gonna be alright.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! come say hi to me on [tumblr](https://nevergonnacallmedarling.tumblr.com/) :)


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